[That first instant of landing on the thick deep comfort of his mattress — it's unparalleled bliss, so much so that even his raging need briefly takes a backseat to bask in the way it feels. He hadn't even realized how much it'd abraded, all the pretensions he's forced to wear like armor when he's pretending to be alpha. He'd drawn them in so close he'd forgotten how desperately he'd been craving this, the pillowy sweetness of a place that reads as soft and safe and nest.
For a second, he's lost in it; even the heady musk of Tseng's scent isn't enough to overpower the flood of relief that saturates him, rubbing his cheek against the cashmere comforter, the thousand-count sheets. This room, this bed, this nest smells like him, accentuated in the best possible way by his alpha's presence — and that's all there is, no competing influences, no unpleasant distractions.
It's why he doesn't help at all when Tseng reaches for his clothes, half because he's too far gone in the release of relief to even think of it, and half because it is what he wants. His alpha should get his hands on him, should pamper him so. At long, long last, the pieces are falling into place; finally there's rightness in his world, the long struggles set aside to make room for his reward.]
You, you, you.
[That's not helpful, and doesn't come close to addressing the question he's been pressed with, but this isn't offered up as an answer to Tseng's demand; quite the contrary, it's a reward for good behavior, praise for the lovely perfect alpha who delivered him into this bliss, who's seeing to his needs just like he's supposed to.
His eyes open a bit, dark as a stormy ocean beneath long lashes and half-lids, and another course of purring spills from his throat as Tseng's clever hands free him from the awful confines of his clothes, as the scent of his slick and his need fills the air more and more as the linen peels away.]
You said — your cock, I want your cock —
[His mouth falls open, soft and wet, tongue rolled out like a red carpet against his lower lip. Obscene. Inviting.]
Scent me — ah, mmmn — while you give it, give it to me —
no subject
For a second, he's lost in it; even the heady musk of Tseng's scent isn't enough to overpower the flood of relief that saturates him, rubbing his cheek against the cashmere comforter, the thousand-count sheets. This room, this bed, this nest smells like him, accentuated in the best possible way by his alpha's presence — and that's all there is, no competing influences, no unpleasant distractions.
It's why he doesn't help at all when Tseng reaches for his clothes, half because he's too far gone in the release of relief to even think of it, and half because it is what he wants. His alpha should get his hands on him, should pamper him so. At long, long last, the pieces are falling into place; finally there's rightness in his world, the long struggles set aside to make room for his reward.]
You, you, you.
[That's not helpful, and doesn't come close to addressing the question he's been pressed with, but this isn't offered up as an answer to Tseng's demand; quite the contrary, it's a reward for good behavior, praise for the lovely perfect alpha who delivered him into this bliss, who's seeing to his needs just like he's supposed to.
His eyes open a bit, dark as a stormy ocean beneath long lashes and half-lids, and another course of purring spills from his throat as Tseng's clever hands free him from the awful confines of his clothes, as the scent of his slick and his need fills the air more and more as the linen peels away.]
You said — your cock, I want your cock —
[His mouth falls open, soft and wet, tongue rolled out like a red carpet against his lower lip. Obscene. Inviting.]
Scent me — ah, mmmn — while you give it, give it to me —